


The Hunter and The Beast

by lordfallen



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Curses, Dark Fantasy, Dubious Consent, Fantasy, Folklore, Gay, Goddesses, Human/Monster Romance, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Male Slash, Original Fiction, Rivalry, Romance, Royalty, Spirits, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordfallen/pseuds/lordfallen
Summary: Kalypso was never meant to cross paths with a wicked leader of cursed shapeshifters, whom he was trained to hunt down and kill, but a web of dark, forbidden romance and vengeance ensnares him in a cunning twist of fate.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 40





	The Hunter and The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask "who are you". Always ask "what are you" first.

> _With rogues he must be a rogue; with thieves let him filch whatever he can._
> 
> _It befits him who is truly wise, to be a person that can shift his very skin._
> 
> _Good with the good let him be, bad with the bad: just as things are,_
> 
> _So let him ever frame his state of mind.  
>    
>  _

— Bacchides (Act IV, Scene 4), Plautus.

* * *

Every man that dared to step into the Dark Forest had laughed at the folklore attached to the creatures of the woods and passed down by the merchants year after year. Now the travelers themselves have vanished, swept away as if by a plague, and Kalypso knew better than not to believe the saying.

When the trees danced loudly and  _ Iussus _ had decided to send the sun, Kalypso ventured into the dark woodlands that surrounded the Northern Kingdom’s lands. The cool decaying air burned his lungs and the otherworldly atmosphere beckoned him to go deeper until the path at his feet began to fade.

Time had no meaning in the Dark Forest. A traveler could spend an hour or days and beyond finding their way back to safety, and the blackness would still catch up to nurture their sense of claustrophobia and rob them of orientation.

But Kalypso’s destiny was different.

The elders expected his return before sunset and with a doe in hand for a royal dinner dedicated to the dawn of his adulthood and huntsmanship. Standing at the edge of his blurred path, the male crouched and froze. Listening for animals…

A snapping twig and the flight of startled crows- something caught his attention, and he shot upright, turning sharply. 

In a search for prey, Kalypso had instead crossed paths with a predator; one, whose entrancing eyes crawled across Kalypso’s body past thick trees. They were like carnelian stone slit in half by the pupil, following him as Kalypso moved through the snow – so captivating, they could make anyone tremble with awe. 

Not only were they different from the eyes populating the kingdom, but they were  _ magical _ .

“It is rare that I see a hunter from the Northern Kingdom so young,” the stranger’s voice was several degrees colder than his mellow mien suggested; his young, naive listener couldn’t help but be persuaded by the bewitching firmness that it carried.

With Kalypso’s guard high, he immediately reached over his own shoulder to draw an arrow of steel and settle it upon his silver crossbow. “And who are you?” Kalypso asked shamelessly, his voice had almost cracked, as he watched the man’s silhouette carry itself closer with supple grace. 

Slowly but surely, Kalypso took in the striking countenance of a beautiful and sagacious man, with a burly physique and an age greater than his own, who seemed not to possess a speck of vulnerability.

“A hunter, but from distant lands.”

He could’ve sworn the man was a few feet away when he avowed, but with the blink of an eye, the handsome stranger was standing before him – ignoring Kalypso’s detailed arrow that pointed eagerly towards his abdomen. 

A sensation crawled up the boy’s spine, cold and dark despair. 

_ Was this what intimidation felt like? _

“Rumors of  _ Versipellis _ have brought me to your land. I was hoping to bring a beast’s head home,” the man explained with unequaled and frigid calmness, wondering if Kalypso would fall for such a clumsy excuse.

But instead of paying attention to the detail, Kalypso thought of how disturbing the discrepancy between the charm in the foreigner’s body language and the nonchalant tone of his voice was. So disturbing, he wished the man hadn’t spoken at all. 

His heart pulsated in his ears as a question tore from his throat as quick as light, “Brought you from where?”

Slowly, like ice sliding across a plate, the handsome face smiled. “The Great Mountains of the East.”

And it did not matter if the ignorant hunter didn’t know that the East had no mountains. Meeting a man with carnelian eyes so close to the Northern Kingdom had meant it was already too late.

* * *

Kalypso left the forest with a deer draped over his shoulders like a scarf made of fur. 

Snow crackled underfoot. His pale fingers were numb while his lower-lip trembled. He expected the outsider to follow him after he had escaped the tension of their conversation, but instead had lost the man to the woods. He was left with no name and yet the memory of their chance-encounter stuck in his head like an invisible bullet.

One after another, Kalypso threw desperate glances behind his back to fight back the feeling of being continuously watched. In that fashion, he looked in vain until his boots’ soles touched the Northern Kingdom’s welcoming gates and he was stripped of his prey by the servants who had waited for his arrival.

As he was congratulated by elders whose bodies were already six feet under and rushed to the corners of the castle to where his bedroom was, it was almost time for the royal dinner. 

The dinner existed to worship the Iussus, fair Goddesses who have graced the human-race with enchanted weaponry and shed light when there was darkness; to remind the villagers to whom the throne belonged, and to celebrate the start of the huntsmen trials.

Only those proven worthy could sit at the same table as the royal family, and being the Northern Huntsmen Chief’s son, Kalypso was one whose arrival was most expected this evening.

The last few lances of light fell in a holy line of fire and the day was swallowed whole. The night, an unbreakable curse, was upon its people, tainting the velvet sky. It hugged the castle, painting its large windows black.

In the meantime, the grand interior had made itself ready for dinner. A long, dark wood table freckled with candelabras and laden with delicacies: honey-roasted ducks, goats turning on spits, pigs stuffed with savory fruit and nuts, marinated chicken, baked trout with garlic and lemon, thick slices of beef tongues, and countless cheeses, breads, vegetables. Waterfalls of red wine contrasted mounds of fragrant wild rice. A whole roast deer, with sprigs of rosemary threaded through its antlers, sat in the center.

The sight of so much food dazzled Kalypso, but he resisted falling to the bread and meat like a wild thing and made no haste to take the seat beside his father. In that moment, a poisonous gaze penetrated the waves of guests, a vividly felt presence making itself known as its scrutiny bored into him. 

Watching a seat not far from the Kalypso’s was the same man from the forest, his skin a darkened gold against the candlelight.

Kalypso froze on the spot.

His vision went white and the freeze-frame of the moment that the man’s eyes possessively met his was enough to make his heart sink. 

As far as coincidences went, their reunion was too real, too raw. He couldn’t even begin to grasp the reasons. He had forgotten nothing: not the perfect, large proportions of the outsider, nor the hunger that hid behind his honeyed words and now had stretched his lips into a sadistic smile.

“Seems like you’ve caught our special guest’s eye,” the Prince’s sudden whisper thrust him back into reality, forcing him out of the chilling daze. The Prince had his upper-body slightly bent forward and rested a hand covered in rings on the back of the other’s chair. Sarahin was not much taller than Kalypso, with light-brown hair to frame his somewhat pale but feminine face, and a body most women would consider ideal: lean and not too muscular.

Kalypso’s instincts forced him to shoot Sarahin a side-glare, just before he returned his attention to the man sitting across. “Who is he?”

“A leader of a moving hunters’ tribe. If I haven’t misheard, his name is Romanus.” Sarahin deliberately kept his head where it was: so near, their noses would meet if the other turned, but Kalypso didn’t move an inch.

_ Romanus _ . The name on the tip of his tongue tasted like a bittersweet pill crushed between his teeth.

“I’ve never cared to ask for the details, but father said he is here for a reason.” 

In the background of Sarahin’s voice, the King was starting to request his presence.

“You should join the King, your Highness,” Kalypso dared to remind, sounding distracted as Romanus’ resoundingly cool voice – a voice full of unwavering confidence – was inseparably trapped in the echo-chamber of his ears. He couldn’t concentrate, only hear the man’s words from when they met in the forest, but he had to respond to Sarahin to appear less bewitched. “The ceremony cannot start without a prince.”

“We’ll talk after.”

“Tomorrow.”

“You are cruel, Kalypso,” Sarahin shook his head with a husky chuckle and a smirk slitting his face as he began to move away. His fingers slid leisurely off the chair. “If I hadn't known you as a child, I would condemn you.”

“How selfish,” Kalypso remarked, challenging the prince’s frisky mien.

“I will walk over others to satisfy my needs, but you are in no place to complain. I’ve been very kind to you so far.” His whimsy unharmed, Sarahin returned a mischievous gaze instead and finally left to take his seat beside the King.

All conversations faded into silence as the King rose from his satin-burgundy chair. Sarahin, wearing more diamonds than men could count and seated with his back arched like a good pupil, raised his glass. The guests, and even the outsider, raised theirs silently as well.

“Today we celebrate the tradition of our huntsmen,” the King began, his voice as powerful as a lion’s call, “especially Kalypso, who has shed his childskin upon sunrise to become a man.”

Heads turned as one to look at Kalypso but, without even acknowledging the King’s speech, all that the young hunter wanted to do was to look behind his back to observe Romanus. When he did, the man’s smile returned. 

His muscles jerked when his father’s hand touched his shoulder, and Kalypso shifted his attention to catch his nod. It was odd to be finally shown care after his father had trained him like he had forgotten he had a son.

“One after another, our young rogues will become warriors, guarding the North against the  _ Versipellis _ . You will learn to cut the beasts’ heads, remove their skin, and burn their bodies, for their beauty and intelligence comes with a curse we shall outlive. Shall  _ Iussus _ guide you,  _ Crepusculumni _ cast luck upon your soul, and  _ Iunctio _ have the keys to the doors you dare to open. To our huntsmen,” the King said and drank his wine down in a long swallow. 

_ To our huntsmen _ , the guests repeated in unison before they could taste the red which adorned their glasses.

In this way, over hours, everyone ate until their bellies ached with fullness and felt as though they had never eaten before. The guests drank continuously, refilled their silver plates, and drunkenly stumbled away from the table but closer to the merchants’ music.

Sarahin had thrown his legs onto the table, ankles crossed, with a hand waving to the rhythm while the King spoke to his marchioness. Kalypso’s father bid him a good night and left his side to join their conversation.

Aware of the trial awaiting him tomorrow, Kalypso had no intention to indulge in the wine. Instead, the drowsy, easy pleasure of eating overwhelmed him and he began to seek the exit, until the music fell on deaf ears. 

Goosebumps were brought out on his skin as Romanus caught the last trace of his attention, devouring him with an unrelenting stare. The impulse to escape the man’s eyes overwhelmed him to an extent that his vision misted. Kalypso easily noticed that the closer he got to the door, the more Romanus moved, and he feared that the man would chase him down and seize him if he decided to look away.

The door swung open for Kalypso to slip out of Romanus’s hungry sight. A single question crossed his mind as he released a nervous sigh, awakening all senses:  _ What kind of man was he really, under his tanned skin? _

For all Kalypso knew, the man’s beauty matched that of a  _ Versipellis _ beast whose sadism warned not to kill at once.

_ What will he do with me? _

The walk to his room stretched with each step and his pulse intruded his mind like a sonorous drum. Within minutes of silence, he saw Romanus’ large silhouette slither towards him in the corner of his eye. The ominous shadow sprawled over the carpeted floor like a puddle of ink in front of Kalypso’s feet, and he held his breath as a moment of indescribable panic washed over him.

He stood there stymied, building up the courage to turn around and confront the shadow’s owner. __

_ Who are you really? _ Kalypso mouthed and his throat clamped shut as he dared to take a peek. Dared to turn around slowly.

To see no one. 

After entering his room, Kalypso neared a tall, bronze mirror that leaned against the wall, all while his heart hysterically beat against its own ribcage. He slowly stripped out of his clothing and observed the door behind his back through its reflection. 

He pulled a plain night-robe over his skin and allowed its loose sleeves to roll off his shoulders until they fell over the forearms. 

Having not heard any footfalls outside of his room, the three door knocks took him by surprise. No voice followed as the unknown figure waited to be invited, and he assumed it was a servant.

His body grew warm against the blade which he had tucked into the garter around his upper-thigh. He hesitated at first, lips trembling as they parted, but eventually decided to act boldly. 

“…Come in.”

Kalypso watched, unblinking, as a man walked inside and-

_ Romanus? _

Shivers ran down Kalypso’s spine like a stream of bugs and for the first time, he truly knew. He met the other’s gaze and knew that this was more than a simple coincidence or bad luck. Romanus’ exceeding attractiveness awakened in him an almost instinctual fear and craving. A presence so flawless and unforgettable made him want to touch to see if any of it was real. There was even a hint of cruelty about him that coursed through Kalypso like an electric shock.

For all he knew, Romanus could’ve been a witch, but male witches didn’t look or behave the way he did. 

Taking a step closer, Romanus savored the other with his eyes and despite harboring all the regrets in the world, Kalypso’s aroused and obstinate willpower remained. Even his father’s merciless training couldn’t tear it out of him.

Every hair on his body stood on end. His slender fingers coiled around his hidden blade, ready to strike. 

The whole situation was bad… really bad. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why did you lead me here?” Romanus whispered once he was right behind him. It was as if he had lost track of time when the man’s hand landed on his hip and the other slipped into his robe. The pounding of his racing heartbeat held Kalypso in some sort of spell. The way he was embraced was a sure sign that he was being trapped until there was no escape.

Romanus’ fingers glided across his skin, gradually exhausting any excess energy Kalypso had to spare for his defense. It was a fire difficult to describe. His short body shuddered in Romanus’s hands; he was met with the man’s mellow smile the moment his eyes had returned to their reflection in the mirror.

The moonlight dazzled him, Romanus’ presence made him drunk, and his low, inexorable voice rose and fell like a ballad, lulling him, pulling at him. 

“Could it be…,” his touch rolled down like melting ice, until it reached Kalypso’s hidden blade, “You have lured me all this way from the crowd just to kill me?” 

Kalypso’s heart dropped and his face lost its color. 

But Romanus didn’t appear perturbed in the slightest at the discovery; he was perfectly controlled and, after a pause, continued his tracing.

_ Nonsense- it was you, who-  _ Kalypso’s aggressive thoughts trailed off into an empty space when he felt Romanus’ roaming hand reach his abdomen so close, it made Kalypso’s breath catch abruptly. 

The tantalizing excitement… the feeling of being at one’s mercy…something began to pulsate in his lower extremities.

“Who are you?” The words stubbornly spilled out of Kalypso, even if he knew at this point that his darts would never find their target.

Romanus bowed his head for his lips to press a gentle kiss on the other’s shoulder, hiding his new smile. A malevolent smile, only the barest corners of his lips turning up. By no means a mirage or a hallucination.

“In a world like ours, you should never ask  _ who _ , Kalypso. Always ask  _ what  _ first.”

Immediately, Kalypso knew that the male whose lips grazed his shoulder carried an uncompromising streak of a devil. A monstrosity Romanus wasn’t able to hide, not in front of a mirror that he had watched intently.

Kalypso’s knife ripped free as soon as Romanus’ lips parted to reveal pearl-white, long and thick teeth. Adrenaline flooded his system and within seconds, Kalypso managed to tear away from his hold to turn around and slice his bestial face in half.

Yet he was no longer there.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first online novel, so thank you a lot for reading! Please leave Kudos, Comments, and anything alike to support my work. :)


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